He laughed mockingly. “Oh, my poor little kitten. I suppose you expect me to pounce on you in the carriage. An intriguing idea, I must admit, but I would hate to tear that lovely gown.”
Gabrielle blushed hotly. “I expect nothing from you, captain, except that you escort me to this—this party of yours. Once there I will gladly leave you to your own devices.”
“Oh, yes, I had forgotten that you were accompanying me under duress. Does it not occur to you that the noble M’sieur de Chevalier is using you to protect himself from what he thinks might be a possible attempt at blackmail? Most women would not be so obliging, unless, that is, they did not hate the perpetrator as much as they insisted.” He laughed again with insolent boldness.
“And so, you do have blackmail in mind!” Gabrielle pressed him, her mind catching instantly at the word she had dreaded to hear.
He shrugged. “Why should I be Interested in obtaining money from the marquis when I keep assuring you that I have quite enough to satisfy me?”
She bit her lip thoughtfully. “If you are being honest, which I am still inclined to doubt, then why am I here with you now?” she demanded.
He laughed even harder. “But that is exactly my point, kitten. Could you bring yourself to be in my company for a whole evening unless you held me in some favor?”
His self-assured sarcasm burned her, and she wished she could just jump out of the carriage and show him exactly how little he mattered to her.
“Of course, I cannot deny my interest in you, kitten,” he continued, studying her. “I have high hopes that it will climax in something quite—shall we say—pleasant for both of us.”
“Oh!” she knew her face had reddened at the implication in his words. But he was lounging carelessly in his seat now, apparently tired of the game. His lack of interest only heightened her humiliation. He had made her out to be secretly longing for him to make love to her, and he openly admitted that he would look forward to just such an episode, but no more so than with any other desirable woman. He really was loathsome, and she vowed that if he ever tried to lay his hands on her, she would scratch his eyes out.
They were both silent for the rest of the ride, she inwardly fuming at her own weakness, and he watching her discomfiture with amusement. When the carriage stopped, Gabrielle did not wait for him to help her out but jumped down from the step herself, nearly twisting her ankle in a crevice. He caught her arm easily enough, forcing her to his side as they entered the well-lit house from which music and laughter were pouring into the street. At the door, Gabrielle searched the salon, hoping to see someone she knew, but found that everyone there was a stranger to her.
“Oh, Rafe, you devil! I thought you had decided not to come.” The lilting voice belonged to a woman whose dress completely revealed her breasts through the sheer material. Her flaming red hair and sparkling green eyes proclaimed her a beauty, and the size of the jewels at her wrists and throat hinted that she belonged to Napoleon’s court.
Captain Savage was bowing to the woman, and she simpered, leaning toward him so that even Gabrielle could see well into her dress. Her own unease increased when the captain pulled her towards him to be introduced, and she was aware of the narrowing of the woman’s eyes.
“Let me introduce Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Beauvoir. Gabrielle, this is Madame Martine Cavounnais. She will be your hostess this evening.”
Gabrielle curtseyed; the name rang a bell somewhere in the back of her mind. Hadn’t a Madame Cavounnais been the emperor’s mistress for some months before the new Austrian empress had arrived?
“How nice to meet you, my dear. Philippe, do come over, darling and meet our new arrival. Ma’m’selle de Beauvoir, this is my cousin, Philippe Aubremont. Philippe, you know Captain Savage.”
A fair-haired young man walked confidently over, his eyes sliding over Gabrielle in a way she found particularly irritating.
“A pleasure, ma’m’selle,” the man was saying, bowing over her hand. He took her arm and led her into the room, making introductions to many people, some of whom she knew by name. She glanced once at Captain Savage, but, as he was seemingly engrossed in what Madame Cavounnais was whispering to him, he did not notice.
“Oh, my dear, you must let me see your gown. Monsieur LeRoy’s touch, I can tell.” A woman was commenting on her dress, pulling the shawl from around her shoulders.
Gabrielle clutched at the garment a little forlornly and watched as a servant took it away to be put with the other capes and cloaks. She managed to thank the woman for the compliment and saw that perhaps her dress was not so dangerous as she had first thought. Surely all of the other women’s bosoms were at least partially exposed, and Gabrielle felt a little proud of her breasts, which rose high and firm, nestling pertly in her bodice.
The talk was barely distinguishable among the noise and music, and the heat was already causing her to perspire a little. She felt obliged to do her best and listened with feigned interest to idle chatter about life at court.
She looked up now and then to see the captain encircled by a knot of admiring women who listened breathlessly to his bold but amusing conversation.
Gabrielle found herself wishing he would stay by her side. She did not fit in with these people. After what seemed like hours, dinner was announced, and Gabrielle turned thankfully for Captain Savage to escort her to the table. But he was already leading the hostess inside, and Gabrielle found that Aubremont was bowing to her and offering his arm. She took it with some spirit, determined that Captain Savage’s lack of interest was not going to spoil her evening. After all, she had to admit that she had as much as told him in the carriage to keep his distance.
She found herself seated between Aubremont and an elderly gentleman who, despite his age, seemed to have a gift for intelligent repartee. He kept her fascinated through much of the meal as he talked knowledgeably about the Russian front, the Americas, and his estates near Marseilles.
She would have forgotten about Aubremont if he hadn’t insidiously slipped his hand beneath the table, next to her thigh. “I thought you’d forgotten me,” he said by way of explanation when she gave him an outraged look.
Gabrielle would have answered with a biting reply, but she caught herself, remembering that she was a guest and this man was a relative of the hostess.
“My small talk is, perhaps, not as interesting as M’sieur Duvall’s, but I can assure you that my prowess on the dance floor is unequalled, ma’m’selle. After dinner, I insist on enjoying the first dance with you.”
Gabrielle accepted him, although her response was probably not as enthusiastic as he would have wished. But she did not like his eyes that roved continually over the bodice of her gown. She was annoyed enough to slap him but again reminded herself to hold her temper.
She looked down the table where Captain Savage was engaged in lively conversation with his hostess and one or two others. She caught the white gleam of his teeth as he smiled when Madame Cavounnais put her arm possessively on his sleeve. It promised to be quite difficult to arrange for Captain Savage to return her home, Gabrielle thought.
After dinner was over, Aubremont hovered close to her, never missing an opportunity to fill her empty glass with more wine, which caused her to drink more than she was accustomed to. When the music started, his arm slid easily about her waist and he guided her out to the dance floor. The music was really lovely, and Gabrielle leaned back in his arms and allowed him to swirl her about the polished tiles, conceding that he was a first-rate dancing partner.
She danced with several men during the evening, and she refused to let her eyes search for her escort. It was quite late, after midnight, when she saw him on the other side of the ballroom with the hostess. Martine looked quite flushed as the two walked together about the room, and Gabrielle felt a sharp pang of anger as she guessed at the cause of her disarray.
Her disgust heightened as she watched them dancing together—nearly pasted against each other, she thought. She took the proffer
ed wine from Aubremont who had returned to her side and downed it in one gulp, causing herself to cough until tears sprang to her eyes. Aubremont followed the direction of her eyes and smiled to himself.
“Ah yes, you’ve noticed how my cousin monopolizes the captain’s time, ma’m’selle. Rather insulting to you, I’m sure, but my cousin is a ruthless woman, and I’m afraid she cares very little about other people’s feelings. She usually gets what she wants, and I doubt that Captain Savage will be an exception.”
“I agree,” Gabrielle replied. “But I really don’t care what she wants, be it Captain Savage or anyone else. Shall we dance again?”
She was surprised at her own boldness but attributed it to the effects of the wine. She was feeling a little warm, and when Aubremont led her towards the garden outside, she didn’t object, although she leaned away from him when he would have put his arm around her. She wished she had thought to bring her shawl outside, as the April night was a trifle chilly.
“A beautiful night,” Aubremont commented idly, his hand toying with the leaf of a juniper tree.
Gabrielle breathed deeply, hoping to clear her head. “Yes, it does feel good to get out of the stifling atmosphere in there.”
They walked further into the garden, Gabrielle’s senses dulled to the warning of intimacy. They sat down on a bench, and she allowed him to take her hand.
“A beautiful night,” he repeated, “but not so beautiful as you, my lovely Gabrielle.”
He turned towards her, and Gabrielle knew that he was going to kiss her. Ordinarily she would have been repulsed by his forward manner after knowing him such a short time, but in her present mood of anger and carelessness, she offered her lips silently, feeling almost gratefully the warmth of his arms around her shoulders. His kiss did nothing to her, only creating a pleasant anticipation as his mouth moved to her temple. Contrarily, though, she sensed that her partner was becoming a bit heated from the experience, and she decided it would be best to stop him while she still held control over the situation.
Gently she brought her hands up to push him away, but she found that he resisted her unspoken demand while he took her lips again. She freed her mouth in annoyance.
“M’sieur Aubremont, please! I wish to be taken back inside now.”
“In due time, ma’m’selle. But now I have other things on my mind which require the privacy of just such a space as this.”
He would have clasped her harder against him, but Gabrielle struggled out of his grasp, agile as an eel.
“Please, I—”
“Quiet,” he spoke sharply. “Do you think I’m some ninny that you can lead by the nose as my cousin does so skilfully with her paramours? I gathered from your actions that you would enjoy an intimate moment with me.”
“Well, then, you have judged wrong, for although I find your company pleasant, m’sieur, I cannot bring myself to more.”
Gabrielle was shaking a little, whether from the cold or the anger he had instilled in her.
“I see—a mere dalliance, then. Perhaps you hoped that your Captain Savage would see us walk out here and be moved to jealousy. Well, ma’m’selle, I’m afraid that he is well taken care of by the beautiful Martine, and your jealously guarded virtue will grow old waiting for him.”
Stung, Gabrielle glared at him, her humiliation all the greater as she recognized the innuendo in his words.
“He is not my captain, m’sieur.”
He laughed shortly. “Oh, don’t bother to dissemble, ma’m’selle. It’s not worth it. I’ve seen what the man does to women with his damnable good looks and bold manners. You’re just like the rest of them, unfortunately.”
Gabrielle stamped her foot in irritation. “I am not like the rest of those silly, twittering women,” she cried out. “I abhor the man, but I was obliged to accompany him tonight. If I never had to see him again, I would count myself blessed.”
“Then why do you resist me?” he put in slyly, reaching for her.
Gabrielle twisted away from him. “Because your manners are repulsive, m’sieur. I barely know you. How can you expect me to—” but she could not finish the sentence when he caught her again in his arms, his mouth pressing against her, effectively choking back further discussion. His hand explored her breast beneath the neckline of her gown and Gabrielle raised her hands once more to push him away.
“That is quite enough, Aubremont.” The deadly seriousness of the voice caused him to move back quickly.
Gabrielle stared at Rafe Savage, whose eyes gazed back at her filled with mockery.
“I believe the young lady no longer wishes your company.”
For a moment, Gabrielle thought the other man would spring at Savage.
“I believe that this is hardly your business, Captain Savage. Don’t you think you have enough to handle just. entertaining my cousin? Surely you would leave some of the other women for the rest of us.” His words were biting with rage.
A suggestion of a smile appeared on the captain’s face. “As you say, Aubremont, there are other ladies inside who would be glad to put up with your bad manners and your fumbling attempts to please a woman. I suggest you go and find one.”
The younger man’s face with livid with rage. “You go too far, Savage. If I but had my sword, I’d run you through for your insults!”
“You’d best be glad you do not have one, m’sieur, for I would be obliged to kill you in short order.” At the words, uttered in a quietly menacing tone of voice, Aubremont seemed to recoil.
“I—I suppose I could forgive your interference, then, but—but I—”
“Why don’t we ask the young lady what she would prefer to do?” Savage interrupted and turned towards Gabrielle, whose face was glowing with embarrassment.
She looked at both of them in an agony of humiliation and then turned to rush back into the house. Oh, I hope they both kill each other, she thought, feeling tears of helpless anger gathering in her eyes. She must—she must go home.
She walked almost blindly into the room and nearly bumped into Martine, who caught her arm almost casually. “My dear, whatever happened out there? Are you all right? When Rafe saw you walk out the door with cousin Philippe, he said he thought he’d best see that you were safe. I suppose he feels responsible for you. After all, you’re only a child.”
“I’m fine, thank you, madame. There—there was no need for the captain to worry on my account. If you will just call a carriage for me and have a servant fetch my shawl—I think I’d like to go home now.”
The woman released her arm and went to find a servant. Gabrielle dabbed at the moisture in her eyes as she waited in the huge hall, hoping the servant would hurry and direct her to a carriage. To her chagrin, instead of a servant she perceived the figure of Rafe Savage coming towards her. Behind him, a frown marring the beauty of her face, trailed Martine.
“But Rafe, darling, you cannot be leaving so soon. Why I thought that, perhaps, you and I might—”
“I’m sorry, Martine, but I do have a responsibility towards Mademoiselle de Beauvoir.”
“Since when have you felt a responsibility towards any woman? Rafe, please—”
Gabrielle felt embarrassed to be a witness to this naked pleading. She tried not to see as Savage bent down to the woman and bestowed a kiss on her full lips even as his hand caressed her flagrantly.
“Tomorrow, then?” she heard the woman whisper huskily.
He laughed but would not commit himself, and Gabrielle wondered if the beauteous Martine had finally found a man who could not be wrapped around her little finger.
She felt him standing behind her and turned. “I would not take you away from your pleasures, captain. I assure you that I can get home alone.” She thought of the night she walked home after Charles had insulted her in the carriage.
“Perhaps, kitten, but I prefer to leave, myself, and found you a likely excuse.”
“Oh!” How easily he can anger me, she thought, and wondered why he persisted in doing so.<
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He took her arm and walked with her to the carriage.
Before she quite knew what he was about, she felt his arms around her, lifting her into the vehicle as easily as though she were, in truth, a child.
“I think you’ve drunk a little too much wine—thanks, no doubt, to young Aubremont, the lecherous pup,” he said, settling down next to her.
“I’m not drunk. Captain Savage,” she assured him, still smarting from his earlier slight. “Besides, I’m sure M’sieur Aubremont could take lessons from you when it comes to seducing young women!” Privately she admitted to herself that she did feel tired and a trifle light in the head.
She leaned against the side panel of the carriage, trying to keep as far away from her companion as possible. She did not close her eyes, though, fearing that he would mistake her action for acquiescence. Instead, she found herself remembering parts of M’sieur Duvall’s dinner conversation, especially those stories related to the Americas.
He had made several voyages during the late Revolution, helping to stock the Americans’ provisions against the British forces. She had wanted to ask him if he had ever heard of the Savages in Virginia, but had decided against it. He had drawn brightly colored pictures in her mind of naked Indians swooping down on settlers and he extolled the splendor of the port cities and the novel way of life in the United States. Duvall had especially liked the city of New Orleans, mostly because of its French flavor and design.
The sound of carriage wheels coming to a noisy halt on gravel woke her from her doze, and she felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to fall asleep despite her previous resolution. Her mind was still blurred, and she blinked her eyes at the sudden dim triangle of light from the open door of the house. In another moment, she was lifted in strong arms and taken inside the house.
“Please forgive me for falling asleep, Captain Savage, but I can assure you that I am quite awake now. You can put me down, please.”
Gabrielle Page 8
